Technicolour Eyes
by Unproper Grammar
Summary: Anastasia.Dimitri/Anya. "You have some really ugly clothes," Anya proclaimed over dinner one evening. 44/100
1. Black: Extra, Extra Read All About It!

So here's the deal. I've been on an Anastasia kick lately. I've watched the movie every night before bed for a week. That being said, I'm disappointed at the lack of fic for this marvelous movie, and furthermore, the lack of Anya/Dimitri fics.

It's like they say, if you want something done right, do it yourself. So I've taken it upon myself to take a few drastic measures. I claimed the Anya/Dimitri pairing over at Livejournal's 100 colours prompt community. That means I intend to write 100 drabbles and one-shot fics for Anya and Dimitri.

Originally, I planned to write them in sets of ten and then post ten chapters, but as I got around to it, I found this set up to be...dull. So instead I'm posting them individually, because, hell, I want to.

I'm also challenging myself. I have a habit of getting really into a fandom briefly, and then abandoning it mid-way. So, for the next 100 days, I am going to write one fic a day and post it.

So here is one of many.

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #009: Black**

--

There it was, staring at them, no, screaming at them in black words across the rough page of a newspaper.

'Russian Duchess Abdicates the Throne and Elopes!'

Oh, it was all so terribly dramatic, it was. The fact that the gorgeous, youngest Romanov daughter had finally been found after ten years of impostors and rumors. She was finally reunited with her bloodline, with her family; and within two days of the joyous news being announced, it was proclaimed that she gave it all up.

For a commoner. A con-man, at that.

The streets were in a tizzy. Some dubbed it romantic, others dubbed it tragic. It depended on whom you spoke to, really.

Despite everything, no one really knew the exact identities of the duchess and her husband, which added even more frustration to the situation. One man voiced as much as he stood on a market corner, reading the paper.

"Can you believe it?" he asked the young man who stood beside him, glancing at his watch. He shook his head. "It's positively remarkable."

The young man cocked his head, shaking strands of brown hair out of his eyes. "What is?"

"This!" the man exclaimed, slapping a hand against the newspaper. "We finally get our duchess back and poof! She's gone! Run away for love! Bah! Ridiculous!"

"Yes, well," the man bowed his head. "I guess we all have to make our own choices."

"We certainly do," a female voice entered the conversation. The old man glanced over at her, taking in her long hair and blue eyes. She wrapped an arm around the young man's arm. "Like the decision to walk away right now."

As soon as they were away from earshot, Dimitri grasped Anya's hand. "How long do you think it'll be till this blows over?"

Anya shrugged. "However long it takes to realize that we've been right under their noses all long, still living in St. Petersburg."

Dimitri grinned at her. "Guess we should get used to the rumors, then."

--


	2. Mango: Falling

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #081: Mango**

--

The sky is shades of red and mango, fading darker and darker, falling and landing across her skin in the most elegant, romantic way that he never could have pictured. She's delicate in his arms in a way that he hadn't anticipated, expecting her to be rougher around the edges, harder to handle. Her hair is longer than he expected, with gentle waves at the bottom. Her hand is barely touching his, and yet he feels like he's grasping onto it for dear life.

She's leading and he's following and he's falling, falling, falling. Falling deeper into her life, falling deeper into the pool of light that surrounds her. Falling deeper into the feelings and thoughts that have been plaguing him since he fought with her on the train.

They dance and side-step and twirl and he feels dizzy and light-headed. Her eyes are clear and gaze into his without breaking contact, practically without blinking. She's so close, close, close and yet so far, far, far that he can't help but want to break the distance between them. To lean in and kiss her lips and feel her respond because he just _knows_ that she would.

But instead as the sky fades to black, he takes a step back and pats her hand. There's something about her that's far more geniune than he expected and he couldn't possibly live with himself if he were to taint her.

When it comes down to it, he's selfish and to live with the guilt of knowing that someone like him broke someone like her is something he couldn't handle.

And so he won't.


	3. Dandelion: Of Weeds and Kitchen Boys

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #025: Dandelion**

--

It's a gorgeous, sunny day outside, with warm breezes alreadly filtering through the spring air. The sky is such a vast, clear blue that it doesn't seem real. And after hours spent staring longingly out the kitchen window, the head chef finally shooed Dimitri out, insisting that a boy his age should not be cooped up inside on such a glorious day.

So Dimitri found himself sitting on the grass outside the palace, unsure of what to do with himself. After all, it would be more fun if there were some children to play with, but the only ones around were the Romanov children, and it wasn't as if Dimitri would ever even get close enough to look at one of them up close, nevertheless play with them.

And so he sat there, twiddling his thumbs and ripping pieces of grass out of the ground, collecting little piles beside him, enjoying the warm sunlight, when a bright dandelion popped into his view.

He glanced up and was more than startled to see that one of the Romanov daughters -- the youngest one, perhaps, was standing over him, smiling widely and holding out the plant to him in an offerring. He stood and bowed immediately, feeling very embarrassed about his appearance and his status. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was be back in the noisy kitchen, getting scolded for missing a spot on a dirty dish.

"Your grace," he spat out, nervously. "I apologize. I will be out of your sight at once!" Just as he tried to get away, he felt a warm hand on his arm, pulling him back.

"No, no!" she said, and her voice was like whipped cream, fluffy and sweet. "You don't have to go inside on account of me! I just wanted to give you this; you looked so bored around here that I wanted to cheer you up!"

She presented the dandelion out to him again, still smiling. He glanced down at it, and in spite of himself, raised an eyebrow.

"But your grace," he started carefully. Maybe she hadn't learned this in school yet; she did appear to be at least a couple of years younger than him. "You know those aren't _flowers;_ they're just weeds."

The duchess stared at him and blinked. "So? I don't care if it's a weed or a flower or a dead leaf! It's pretty and it brightens my day! What does it matter what it's classified as?"

Taken aback, he couldn't help but stare. "But, Your Grace, I--"

"Just take it," she said, clearly getting a little annoyed. "It's a present. From me to you."

And so he reached over and received the plant from her small hands and took it in his own. Shyly, he bowed. "Thank you, Your Grace."

She sighed and smiled. "It's about time," before skipping off back to her siblings, who were all giving their nanny a good workout.

Dimitri tried to keep the dandelion alive in a cup of water beside his cot, but he was dismayed, and not surprised to find it withered and dead the next morning.

Despite what she said, dandelions were still weeds and he was still a kitchen boy and when it came down it to; it really did matter.


	4. Mulberry: Caught in the Act

Warning! This one contains some mature content! Nothing graphic; but it is extremely suggestive.

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #069: Mulberry**

--

"We're going to get caught," she hisses as his hands slide under her dress and he drags his nails across her thighs.

"No, we won't." His breath hitches in his throat as her own hands slip under his shirt and slide up his back, running her fingers along his spine.

She cranes her neck back to give him better access, allowing him to bite and nip and lick. He throws her onto the bed and she finds herself scrambling to undress him as fast as possible.

They're on a cruiseship, working in the kitchen and as a maid respectively. The ship goes through most the South American islands, a place they had not been to themselves and it seemed like a good chance to explore them. The work itself, though, was tedious and boring, but it paid well and kept them out of trouble.

So, naturally, they had to find their own.

Anya was cleaning one of the grander suites on the ship when Dimitri suddenly came in, smelling fresh and clean from the shower he had just had, hugging her from behind.

He was on break; she was on duty.

They were in a very gorgeous room. With a very large bed.

The idea presented itselves to them so grandly that they couldn't ignore it.

Their breathing got heavier and the sweat gathered on their brows as they kissed and clutched and gasped, whispering I love yous against each others lips. Anya grips the mulberry sheets underneath her as he moves above her and she feels like no moment could be as great as this.

That is, until, the door swings open and the room's true occupants walk in, faces taking on expressions of horror and disgust.

They're fired promptly and deserted on the next city they dock in.


	5. Cotton Candy: Sugar Lips and Tuelle

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #093: Cotton Candy**

--

Sophie has this intolerable habit of gussying up Anastasia everytime she steps in the palace doors. Dimitri takes great enjoyment in laughing at his wife in when she's decked out in avaunt garde pieces from Chanel, the ones that are more art than clothing.

So when she tumbles in the door one evening, looking hopelessly out of place in their small apartment dressed in head to toe tuelle with cotton candy pink lips and her hair in an extravagant, complicated twist, he can't help but laugh.

"What are you wearing?" he exclaims, part amused, part horrified. She looks like a cupcake.

She huffs and walks to the bed, falling on it sulkily. "Shut up, Dimitri."

He gets up from his seat on the couch and sits next to her, nuzzling her neck. "It's not that bad."

She shoves him off of her. "Are you kidding? I feel like I'm in traction." She rolls over and her legs get tangled in the layers. "Oh, god..." she groans, and sits up for lack of a better position. Dimitri follows suit.

Leaning over her shoulder, he reaches down and lifts one light layer. "How many of these are there?" he whispers in her ear. "One," he lifts another, "two," and another, "three."

When he's on the fifth layer, he glances at her and she staring at him with a small smile on her face. He leans over and kisses her and her lips taste like sugar from the pink wax that's spread on her lips.

"Dimitri," she says when they break apart. "Just get this thing off of me."

He smirks. "Gladly."


	6. Red: To Have Loved and Lost

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #001: Red**

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"It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all."

Ha.

Bullshit. This guy never knew love if he believes in this logic.

I'm serious, because if he did; he would never think this. Not in a million years.

He never danced with her on the deck of a boat, so light-headed from all the feelings he felt to the point that he didn't stop spinning even when their twirling ceased.

He never impulsively grabbed her hand, if only to calm her and make her relax. Just to know that she'd be okay. Just to feel her squeeze back.

He never kissed her hand, so soft and smooth. He never calmed her when she was in a panic, one she didn't even understand. He never walked the streets of Paris with her.

He never yearned to be near her, to kiss her, to touch her, to _be _with her.

He never wondered what it would be like to be with her. To love her. To care for her. To grow old with her. To watch those firey red locks turn to grey.

He never had to deal with the thought, no, the fact of knowing that no matter what he did, no matter whether she felt the same or not; he could _never _be with her.

Ever.

This guy never loved and lost. For if he did, he would know that doing so is the most impossible thing the human heart can ever incounter, and sometimes, you never recover.


	7. Pink: Ratschel Part the First

_This is going to be my last update for about a week. I'm going on vacation, so there is a chance I may be able to upload some already written up chapters I've submitted to the site, but don't count on it. I'll update when I return. :)_

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #002: Pink**

--

"What are you doing Dimitri?"

"Nothing, Ratschel. Go back to the kitchen."

A pause. "No way. I know what you're up to, and you can't hide it."

"Really, because I think you're a twit who's got it all wrong."

"You don't even know what I'm about to say!"

"Well, I don't have to. Whatever it is you're probably wrong."

"You're watching the Grand Duchess! The youngest one, Anastasia!"

"N-no I'm not!"

"Yes you are! I've seen you, Dimitri. When she enters a room you just become transfixed! You watch her all the time! You _like_ her!"

"I-I do not!"

"Yes you do! Your face is bright pink! You can't deny it!"

"What do you know, anyway? One day I'll be the one by her side and we'll laugh in your face!"

"Ha! Don't even think like that Dimitri! You know the rules. And besides, Princesses _don't_ marry kitchen boys."


	8. White: Going to the Chapel of Love

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #008: White**

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"Do you ever regret it?" he asks suddenly one night, as the two of them lay in bed, neither asleep.

She rolls over and looks at him. "Regret what?"

"Eloping," he says simply, looking over her face for any sign of disappointment.

Instead, she rolls her eyes, impatient. Her tone is like venom and if he'st not careful, he'll spend the night on the couch. "Dimitri, we've been over this a thousand times the last year and a half. If I haven't convinced you that this is what I wanted above everything else, then there is something seriously wrong in our relationship."

"No, no," he says quickly, placing a hand on her arm, calming her. "That's not exactly what I meant. I mean, you're a duchess," she stiffens under his touch. She gave up that title long ago. "You could have had the most glamorous wedding ever seen."

She raises an eyebrow. "So?"

"So," he continued, leaning closer to her. "You never dreamt about your wedding day as a child?"

Anya shrugs, shaking his hand off her arm. "Not really."

Dimitri sits up. "You never dreamt of the white dress, the presents, the tall cake? None of it?"

Anya sighs, frustrated and lays back down, her back to him. "All I ever dreamt about as a kid was my real home. I didn't care about how I obtained it, as long as I did. And when I found you, Dimitri, I found my home. That's all that mattered."

Warm arms encircle around her waist as he rest his chin on her shoulder. His breath his hot on her cheek. "So you don't mind that our wedding was nothing but a priest at three in the morning?"

She smiles fondly. "Wouldn't have had it any other way."


	9. Blush: Ratschel Part the Second

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #077: Blush**

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They're in a small market in Germany while on a visit with Marie to some German noble-people or whatever. It's hardly what they consider entertaining, but everyone in Europe already knows that. They already are aware of the fact that the Grand Duchess of Russia and her husband weren't too keen on the whole royal part of their life.

So instead, the public accepted the fact and the majority of them were pleased to greet and speak with the Duchess and her husband. This was the case with this small city in Germany, who was positively delighted to cater to them, especially in their small market that the couple were currently browsing in.

While a small venue selling hats and scarves had caught Anya's eye, another had caught Dimitri's. It was a small kiosk compared to the others and sold intricate, over-priced vases. But it was the woman behind the stand who really caught his eye.

Catching Anya's hand in his own, he beckoned her over and dragged her towards the stand. While she was perplexed, she gazed at the vases with mild interest. "Dimitri? What are we doing here?"

Smiling deviously, he nodded his head in the direction of the clerk. "While, Anya, I just wanted to say hello to an old comrade," turning his attention towards the girl, he grinned. "Hi there, Ratschel. It's Dimitri? Remember, the lowly kitchen boy who worked in the Romanov place?"

The woman's eyes grew wide with recognition. "What? Dimitri? I-I," she paused, looking swiftly at the tall, gorgeous woman next to him. "And who is this?"

Anya curtsied and smiled. "Princess Anastasia of Russia. I see you know my husband!" she grinned, obvious to the entire situation.

Ratschel gaped, but she did not say a word as a light blush spread across her cheeks.

Dimitri pulled on Anya's arm. "Now, Anya, we must be going," he winked. "Nice to see you again, Ratschel."

Revenge was still sweet, even if it was about thirteen years late.


	10. Wedgewood: Thinking of You

_**Disclaimer: Lyrics are from 'Thinking of You' by Katy Perry. I'm not that clever or poetic or emotional. While, maybe the latter.**_

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #022: Wedgewood**

--

_comparisons are easily done once you've had a taste of perfection._

_like an apple hanging from a tree I picked the ripest one,_

_I still got the seed._

_you said move on, where do I go?_

_I guess second best is all I will know._

2:52 AM and all she can think of is the way her palm sweat when she gripped his fingers, begging him not to go.

2:53 AM and all she can recall is the way she cried into her knees, hitting the bed with her fist, crying for him not to leave.

2:54 AM and all she can remember is the way her hand stung when she struck him across the face.

2:55 AM and all she knows is that her life is in shambles now.

She lies in bed and cries because she knows he's not coming back. He was certain that she was destined for something better, something more important than being a con-man's wife. What he doesn't know is that she really, truly didn't want any of it. Not at all.

All she wanted was him.

And so she sat there on the bed, tears streaming down her cheeks in the most poetically dramatic way possible, watching him go around their room, collecting his things. She told him he was all wrong, that he didn't know what he was talking about; but the look of sheer determination on his face told her that there was no going back.

They had been at a ball honoring a French lady when a guest had rather suddenly brought up Dimitri's checkered past. While the royal Russian family had long since moved past this and accepted it, several of the dining attendees didn't. And Dimitri, exhausted and fed up with causing Anya what he assumed was shame and embarrassment decided it was time for him to leave, to let her live the life she was destined to gracefully.

So he packed his things from their elegant room in their apartment in Paris; their home. He gathered them and tucked them away in a wedgewood suitcase, trying not to give in and stay when he saw her crumble and fall to pieces on their bed. It was for the best, he was certain. So he leant over and kissed her, on the forehead, no less, for the last time; feeling hollow inside.

And he left.

3:07 AM and all she can think of is how she hurts and how empty she feels.

3:08 AM and all she can recall is his taste and his touch and his warmth.

3:09 AM and all she can remember is the look on his face that told her he was never, ever, ever coming back.

3:10 AM and all she knows is that she love, love, loves him.

_you're like an Indian summer in the middle of the winter,_

_like a hard candy with a surprise center._

_how do get better once I've had the best?_

_you said there's tons of fish in the water,_

_so the water I will test._


	11. Wisteria: Maria's Dress

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #064: Wisteria**

--

When Anya was little, her sister Maria, wore a dress of wisteria that Anya herself had always coveted. It was a simple frock with ruffles and a bow tie at the back, but Anya loved it.

More to the matter, she loved the person wearing it. Her sister was always said to become a great beauty when she grew older, and Anya always loved watching her twirl in that dress, becoming the picture of glamour. She was the most feminine of the girls, flirting with young men and dancing with grace and class.

Most of all, Anya loved her and she was never shy to talk it, either.

When she and Dimitri bought their first apartment in the heart of Paris, he insisted on being in control of the painting. When she returned from visiting Grandmama one evening, she entered the living room to find the walls painted a warm, inviting shade of Wisteria.


	12. Lemon: Of Cakes and Princesses

**So this goes with the idea that Anastasia died at her correct historical death, which was seventeen, and not her fictional death, which was at the age of eight. I've taken some liberities. :)**

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #013: Lemon**

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"You're going to get in trouble, sister," Olga's voice softly breaking Anastasia of her thoughts. She twirls around, startled.

"What are you talking about?" she draws back from the door frame of the entrance way to the kitchen. Her sister tucks a strand of hair behind her ear a smirks.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, Anastasia. Being in love with a kitchen boy is something no one would certainly approve of here."

Anastasia flushes violently and smooths out the skirts of her lemon yellow dress. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her sister laughs. "Of course you don't. But what's even worse is that you've never even spoken to him. You can't have some torrid affair by yourself, you know."

And with that she exits and Anastasia is left to stand wit her back pressed against the wall to the kitchen, trying to catch her breath. When she feels calm enough and is certain that her sister is no longer lurking in the corners, she steps forward and leans over the door frame again, just to catch a glimpse of him.

He is beautiful, tall and about a year or two older than her sixteen years. He has rich brown hair and eyes with tan skin. Every part of him is something she wants to know, wants to explore. But she never would; not when she was dressed in silks and he was dressed in rags.

But oh, she wants him. And she feels terrible because she's not supposed to want him. She's not supposed to feel this way.

But she does and it makes her sick. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries her hardest to forget his face and for this last time, to say goodbye to him.

But when she opens them, she is instead met with the gaze of his face staring right back at her, only a few feet away from her. He bows. "May I help you, your highness?"

She freezes. She has heard him being called Dimitri. _Dimitri._ What a beautiful name. She sighs inwardly and realizes that he is still staring a her. She blushes.

"Oh, no, no, I just was, um..." she trails off and looks awkwardly around the room for an escape. She sees the ingredients for a cake set out on the counter top. "Um, I just was wondering if I could watch you bake, Dimitri."

She's not entirely sure, but she's almost certain that she saw a flash of red sprinkle his cheeks. "I don't know if that would be proper, your grace."

She almost stamps her foot, so utterly annoyed that even the object of her affections knows that this is wrong. But she doesn't care. "Oh, please, Dimitri," she smiles. "Only this once?"

And so he allows her to come sit next to him while he mixes the ingredients. His hands are elegant and his fingers long. She pours the batter into the pan and she can't help but wonder what it would be like to have him touch her with those fingers.

When the cake is in the oven and a sweet aroma is filling the air, he looks at her curiously from the corner of his eye. "Your grace, if you do not mind me asking...how was it that you knew my name?"

She blushes for what feels like the millionth time that hour. "I've um, seen you in the kitchen before?" she laughs nervously.

He smiles. "And why were you in the kitchen, your grace?"

She sighs and knows that there's no way around this. "I've watched you before," she admits and now she is certain that he flushes upon hearing that. "You're...fascinating."

With his head ducked, he looks at her from underneath his lashes and smiles shyly. "I've watched you, too, before...Anastasia."

And just like that, she leans over and presses her lips to his in a hasty kiss. She can't resist; she just has to. And while he moves his lips against hers, she'll give into this moment, give into him and let herself feel. All she knows, though, is that she never wants to stop feeling this way. Ever.

When they break for breath she realizes there's a stream of smoke in the air, as does Dimitri. He panics and runs to the oven. The cake is burning.

After extinguishing the flames, he leans against the wall and it's obvious something else has come over him. "You should go, your grace," he says pointedly, not looking at her.

She protests. "But,"

"It's for the best."

So she leaves, knowing that this was the first and last time they'd ever speak.


	13. Mahogany: First Impressions

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #012: Mahogany**

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It's a quiet spring night and the palace is so large and empty that had a floorboard creaked he would have heard if from across the other side.

So when he hears that sudden crack and that loud pop of something breaking, it was only natural that he go further and investigate.

It was then that he first saw her twirling, spinning and sasching about the floor in an elegant, complicated waltz that, under different circumstances, would be considered stunning.

But given that there was no music and she was all alone, that was not the case.

'Oh, great," he thought, "Some crazy, homeless girl has broken in. Again.'

He bounded across the mahogany floor. "Hey! What are you doing in here?" he yells. She bolts. He continues to yell and chase after her until he finally gets her to slow.

Upon demanding to know how she got in, it hits him.

She looks just like _her_. She's the answer to all his problems. She's the one he's been desperately searching for. She can _save _him.

His first thought is, "I've found her."

The second is, "Shit, she's a loon."


	14. Robin's Egg: The Dress Looks Nice on You

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #091: Robin's Egg**

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When he escourts her to the fancy balls and dinners that although she is no longer obligated to attend, but does so because she loves her grandmother; she wears fancy dresses. Fluffy confections made out of tafeta and lace, silk and satin.

They're always poofy and bright and have so many layers that it takes her ages to get the whole thing on. She wears a corset that binds her so tightly she can barely breathe, and it makes him whince when she takes it off and he sees the violent red lines it leaves on her skin.

She looks gorgeous, of course, but it's not his Anastasia, not his Anya.

However, when he takes her to dinner or just out on the town, she wears something else entirely. It's a simple dress; a robin's egg blue number that's strikeningly simillar to the one he bought her all those years ago. It hugs her in all the right places and falls in all other spots that it should.

She embodies everything he fell in love with when she wears it. The carefree spirit, the graceful air.

He can't help but stare when she wears it.

Which is often, because she likes to tease him.


	15. Gray: And That's Between Us

_**The lyrics are from 'Paris' by Kate Nash. The title and lyrics fit Anya and Dimitri so well, that I'm almost convinced that she wrote it for them.**_

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #010: Gray**

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_You can stand on your own two feet; you can lead me through the streets._

_Pave the way so we can dream dreams,_

_No one else can see what you've made me see._

_Still climbing trees, tripping up over fallen leaves, but holding hands._

It's when her friend from down the hall witnesses Anya throwing Dimitri's belongings out the window and on top of his frustrated figure onto the gray street below that she approaches her the next day with the idea of leaving him. _'This isn't a healthy relationship_,' she protests. _'One does not just throw her husband's things out of a window after an argument. There must be something lying deeper, more under the surface, Anya!'_

And while Anya let's her have her say, she smiles and says that she'd never leave Dimitri. Her friend scoffs, saying, '_What, did Anya like this up and down of a marriage? Did she enjoy the dramatics of it all?'_

Anya replied yes, because if that's what her relationship with Dimitri was like, than she loved every bit of it.

_No one else could ever understand what's between us._

_And that's between us, but I know that._

When Anya locks Dimitri out of the apartment one week later, it's then that his friend from work suggests that maybe the two spilt up. _'You can't have her humilate you like that," he explains, 'It ruins your pride, your manhood, if you will.'_

Dimitri merely rolls is eyes and says that his friend doesn't know what he's talking about. Not in the slightest. '_What,' _his friend counters, '_I can't see when you're obviously being stepped all over, like a doormat?'_

Dimitri answers that, no, he just can't see that Dimitri rather enjoys being stepped on.

_And you'll never listen to me,_

_And you'll never listen to me,_

The thing was, when it came down to it, neither of their friends ever the good stuff. They didn't see Anya climb out the window and shimmy down the drainpipe (despite Dimitri's protests) only to say she was sorry, so sorry and throw her arms around him. They didn't see her let Dimitri in after ten minutes and see him wrap his arms around her as if she would break. They didn't see the way they looked at each other when they thought no one was looking, or the bouquets of flowers Dimitri would bring him just because.

They also didn't see the small bump on Anya's stomach that was growing at a rapid pace, or the announcement in the Sunday paper for that matter. Maybe then they'd understand her emotional upsets a bit better.

A few weeks later when their neighbors call the cops because their yelling has gotten so loud that Dimitri and Anya move to their own house a few blocks away from Marie and seek new company.

They simply couldn't stand all the noise around them.


	16. Lavender: The Chanel

I write about Anya's dresses a lot, don't I? I guess it's my inner fashionista coming out to say hi.

Sorry for updating later in the day this weekend. Work kicked my ass.

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**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #011: Lavender**

--

"Dimitri, please, stop rolling your eyes," his red haired wife whined. "I need help deciding on what to wear."

Dimitri himself was sprawled out on their bed, hands behind his head and longing while Anya flung garment after garment on top of him. They were attending some silly function. Again. Anya couldn't decide what to wear. Again. Quite frankly, with her clad in nothing but her matching corset and panty set, Dimitri thought she looked she just fine, but she had never been one to appreciate comments like that, especially not during crucial moments of dire disaster.

"Dimitri!" she snaps, breaking him out of his reverie. "Help me decide on something!" she towards a long black dress on the bed and blows her bangs out of her eyes.

Sighing, annoyed, Dimitri stands and walks over the their closet and shifts through the dresses and gowns. One from Prada, one from Givency. One with beads, one with feathers. They continued on like this until stopped at one short, lavender dress wit a large bow on the shoulder. He smiled at it fondly and pulled it out.

"What about this one?" he asked, holding it out to her.

Anya held it in her hands and screwed up her face. "The Chanel? Oh, Dimtri, that's too out of date for _those _people. It would wind up in the newspaper," she pauses and smiles. "The last time I wore this was the night we first arrived in Paris..."

"I know," he smiles and whispers something in her ear. She flushes and punches him in the stomach.

"Not now, Dimitri!" she says through gritted teeth. She throws the dress on the bed into the piles of rejects. "Now help me pick out something to wear!"


	17. Jade: Paris, Paris, Paris

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #023: Jade**

--

Eight years old and all she can think about is Paris. She can't wait to go with her grandmama and see the lights and eat fresh baguettes and wear pretty dresses. She can't wait to go to a place where she is not only with her grandmama, but safe. Free from chaos, from fighting and from hatred.

And so she twirls her jade and gold pendant and thinks of Paris.

Paris, Paris, Paris.

Twelve years old and all she knows is Paris. It's the only clue, only piece of her past, but even then it doesn't make sense. All she knows, and she knows this from deep down in her gut to the very tips of her toes is that there is someone who will love her there. Someone who can take her away from the crowded orphanage and into their, no, her home.

And so she grips her pendant and dreams of Paris.

Paris, Paris, Paris.

Eighteen years old and all she wants is Paris. And while she's on her way there, she just wants to get to that destination already. Not only because it will be her home, but because it will bring her away from him. Away from his sarcasm, away from his blatant manipulation and his ridiculous irritability. Out of his obnoxious clutches and into the arms of someone who truly loves her.

So she touches her pendant and wishes for Paris.

Paris, Paris, Paris.

Still eighteen and she has Paris now, but she thinks, knows and wants so much more. She thinks of her future and how it's suddenly so bright and so vast. She knows her family, who is she and where she belongs. And all she wants is Dimitri and to be with him forever.

And so they sail along and she stays in his arms and falls in love with Paris.

Paris. Paris. Paris.


	18. Raspberry: Roses and Hamlet

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #051: Raspberry**

--

"You're next," the voice from behind him says and were he more coherent, he might reply.

He is at a train station, ready to board a train and walk away from it, from her, from everything.

That was until he pulled a rose from his pocket. Not just any rose, but _the_ rose. The one that had fully bloomed, the one that was a shade of light raspberry. The one that held every single aspect of her that night.

A thousand moments flutter clumsily through his mind. One of her tucking it into his jacket pocket. Another of her almost flirtatious actions that evening. A few instances of her sharp tongue, her witty responses and her moments of desperation that only he saw. And image after image of her blue eyes.

Those stunning eyes.

"Excuse me, young man!" The voice persists. "You're next!"

But he cannot move forward, nor can he move backward out of line. He is paralyzed between doubt and something more and he doesn't know whether to go left, right, backwards, upwards, downwards or sideways.

Indecision killed Hamlet and frankly, it just may kill him.


	19. Blue: Joshua

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #003: Blue**

--

Her first ever crush is on a boy at the orphanage and she's sixteen. He was the new boy and almost a year younger than her. He is so stunning to her the first time she sees him that she just wants to latch onto him and never let go.

He has pale, ivory skin and tuffs of fluffy, jet-black hair. His eyes are a gorgeous shade a sky blue, very much like her own and they pop against the contrast of his skin and hair. He's flawless. His name is Joshua and she's completely taken. She promptly introduces herself the first day he arrives and then begins fantasizing about their life together.

And then he opens his mouth.

Joshua enjoys to talk, apparently. He talks about his parents, about his girlfriends, his school. About his sleep the night before, about the irregularities in his breathing. About how he once did this, about how he once did that. Each and every thing he mentions is something Anya has never experienced, and despite the envy, it's more the fact that he won't shut up about himself long enough to let her share even one small part of her life, despite how empty it was.

Yes, Joshua loves to talk. Especially about me, myself and I.

Anya's so put off by it that one day she pretends have temporary memory loss instead of just forgetting her past and claims she does not know him.

The first time she falls in love, however, is completely different. He has dark brown hair and eyes, with olive skin and a crooked nose. He's far from flawless. His name is Dimitri and quite frankly, she can't stand him.

But he listens to her. Since the moment they met, it's been all about her. Her past, her future, her family, and she loves it. He's a whole list of firsts for her. The first person who would really stand up to her, the first person to buy her a store-bought dress, the first person to dance with her.

The first person to almost kiss her, the first person to hold her hand, to take her to the ballet and the first person to really kiss her.

She finds she doesn't have to fantasize about anything, because it's all happening. It's all real.

She'd never thought she'd be so happy dancing on the deck of a boat, one she doesn't even know where it's headed; dressed in tattered clothes; but she is.

She's with him.

--

**I'm really, really exhausted because I got no sleep last night and had to go to school today and just ughh. So I'm sorry that this sucks so much. This is probably my least favourite drabble.**

**Anyone want to do my hist**_**o**_**ry homework? :)  
**

**Also, just as a note; Joshua is a real person. Thankfully we never dated because he's a pompous idiot.**


	20. Beige: Last Customer of the Day

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #043: Beige**

--

It's been a long day at the bakery, and frankly, Anya just wants to get home. Get home to her kids, get home to her home, get home to her bed and home to her husband.

But first she needs to finish the last five minutes of her shift.

Her life had taken such a drastic turn in the last ten years. She'd gone from being an orphan with no past, no future and no prospects of either; to Anastasia the Grand Duchess of Russia to back to Anya, happily married to her 'prince', Dimitri, with their two young kids living in the heart of Paris. She loved her life and the small bakery she worked at just for the hell of it. She had no regrets.

While, maybe she shouldn't have worn these shoes because her feet were killing her today, but that was another story.

An elderly customer enters the shop and Anya instantly decides that this woman will be her last customer for the day. She takes her white hair and her warm, beige wool coat and smiles to herself. However, the smile slips off her face when she sees the woman's sad expression.

She walks up to the counter and grin cheerfully, "Hello, ma'am! How are you today?" she asks, hoping the transaction goes quickly over all, but regretting her thoughts when she sees the slow, languid way the woman walks and carries herself. She looks up at Anya and says, "Oh, today honey...I'm not feeling so well."

Anya's face falls into a look of sympathy and she hurriedly takes the woman's order, hoping to make it as quick and painless for her so the woman can be on her way and go rest. When she is finished ringing up the loaf of bread, she smiles at the woman and pats her hand softly. "I hope you feel better, ma'am."

The woman looks up at her again and her eyes have suddenly become classy. "Oh honey," her voice breaks. "My husband just passed way."

Anya doesn't say anything for a moment, registering the information. "I'm so sorry," she says softly, squeezing the woman's hand.

"I don't know what to do. My heart is broken...but I have to arrange everything and I needed the bread. I have to eat," the woman sniffs. "Thank you honey." She walks slowly out of the bakery door leaving Anya to stand there motionless.

She leans against the wall and takes a deep breath, taking in what just happened. She imagines her life without Dimitri. Never able to hold him, to kiss him, to argue with him, to talk with him. To tell him she loved him, to tell him she hated him. She shivers.

That night, when Dimitri crawls into bed next to her, she presses up against his back, aligning their knees and legs and resting her chin on his shoulder. She enlaces her arms around his waist and squeezes tight.

He turns his head slightly and looks perplexed. "Are you okay, Anya?" he asks, part concerned, part confused.

She nods. "Just shut up and let me hold you."

For she knows that death is the only thing that will part them, and until then she wants to hold onto him, hold onto each moment she has with him just in case.

--

**I got some sleep. It was good. :) **

**This is based on an actual experience I had in my work place.**


	21. Magenta: The Big Fight

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #055: Magenta**

--

"Dimitri," Anya says, her voice clipped like she's trying not to be judgmental. "You're cutting the tomatoes wrong."

Dimitri looks down at the cutting board on the counter before him. "Um, I'm sorry, _your highness_," his words are fighting and he knows it, but he doesn't care, "but explain to me how you can cut tomatoes wrong?"

Anya scoffs and folds her arms. "I asked you to dice them. _That,_" she points to the small triangles he has produced, "is not dicing."

Dimitri rolls his eyes and continues 'dicing' the tomatoes. "There's no wrong way to dice a tomato, Anya."

Grabbing his wrist to still his actions, Anya glares at him. "_Yes_, there _is _and you're doing it!" she hisses.

Grabbing her own wrist with his free hand, Dimitri stepped closer to her. "_No_, there_ isn't_ and _no_ I'm not."

"Yes you are!" she says, her voice raising several octaves.

"No, I am not!" he yells. Her face is flushed magenta from the anger and it's driving him mad.

"Yes you are!"

And that's it; he's had it. Her hair's fallen into her eyes and she's biting her lip and he can't take it any more. He pins her against the counter and kisses her for all she's worth, more than pleased when she responds.

This was a much better way to get their aggression out.


	22. Olive: Narcissim in D Major

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #035: Olive**

--

Quite frankly, he just wants her to go away. Just get out of his face. Just take her dog and leave.

But she can't and he won't tell her to because she is his key, his cheque, his way to ten million rubles which is about ten million more than he has. Sometimes he's worried that if he pisses her off enough she'll up and leave and then he'll really be screwed because he was so damn close and just didn't make it.

So no, telling her take her olive coat and leave just won't do.

He contemplates all of this while staring at his reflection in the water. Beside him, Anya comes and stares down at him.

"I'm curious, Dimitri," she begins and he already knows she's going to nit-pick something, "Are you searching for the meaning of life, or do you merely just enjoy staring at your own reflection?"

Dimitri rolls his eyes. This is not worth it. But he replies anyway; "My own reflection of course. I'm a narcissist."

She cocks an eyebrow, unamused. "Uh huh. And you like that fact?"

He chuckles. "Of course. You have to love being a narcissist to be a narcissist."

She looks a little perplexed. "Excuse me?"

He sighs. "To be a narcissist means you love yourself. If you didn't like having narcissism as one of your personality traits, you wouldn't love yourself and therefore; wouldn't be a narcissist."

She scoffs and he can tell he's completely frustrated and irritated her with his words. "Hey, Dimitri," she snaps, "It's not clever when you have to explain it."

And with that she walks away and Dimitri can't help but notice the grin on his face. He shakes it off promptly.

Hating it her would be difficult if he actually started to not hate her.


	23. Navy: Blister in the Sun

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #88: Navy**

--

They've been walking for days.

Actually, it feels more like years. Decades, if he's being really dramatic. Despite all of this; it was tiring, redundant and did terrible things for one's feet. Unless you were like Dimitri, who thought ahead and wore comfortable shoes.

Anya, however, didn't seem to be so smart. He couldn't help but notice the way she was limping along. Time to call her on it.

"Hey, Anya?" he said, smirking. "Guess you didn't really think things through? Those boots look awfully uncomfortable."

She whirled around, clearly irritated. "I don't have any other boots, you idiot! These are the only shoes I own! So just shut up!" She spun back around and limped ahead, feeling angry and upset at the same time. Her feet were covered in blisters and it was so painful and gruesome that she just wanted to cry. But she wouldn't show that weakness in front of _him._

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to see Dimitri standing there, a look of remorse on his face. "I'm sorry. That was out of line," he pointed to a log across from them. "Sit down for a sec."

Despite her better judgment, Anya did as she was told; mostly just because it felt good to be off her feet. She removed her navy hat and fanned herself. It was hot out.

Dimitri crouched in front of her. "Take off your boot," he said and once again, she complied. He then reached into the bag he carried and pulled out a roll of gauze. He grabbed her bare foot with one hand and winced when he saw the series of red welts on toes. Carefully, he wrapped the gauze once, twice, three times around her foot.

She stared at him, transfixed at his gentle nature. His touch was soft and kind and he had a look of determination as he carefully wrapped the bandages around her sore foot. It was almost as if he wasn't as evil as she had once thought...

He looked up at her and their eyes met. They froze caught up in a moment neither of them was really ready to understand, or even admit.

So, to break it; Anya kicked him in the face.


	24. Royal Purple: Pinkie Promise

**So this is based loosely on the Anastasia ballet by Ballet Jorgen Canada which I have the immense pleasure of seeing next month! Hopefully it will inspire me some as this challenge will still be on-going then. :) Google it if you'd like. :) **

**--**

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #073: Royal Purple**

--

"Come on, Dimitri!" Anastasia yelled, laughing as her ten year old friend chased her around the palace courtyard. "You can do better than that!"

Dimitri picked up speed and tackled the young duchess to the ground, both of them falling into fits of laughter. "Ha ha!" he shouted, pinning her to the grass. "I win!"

"Alright, alright!" Anastasia surrendered, "Let me up! Let me up!" When her friend relented, she stood up and brushed off her skirt. "Now tell me, what is my punishment? Do I have to eat worms again?"

"Nope," Dimitri leaned close so his floppy brown bangs fell into his eyes. "You have to make a promise."

Anastasia cocked her head. "A promise?"

Dimitri nodded. "And not just any promise, but a pinkie promise. You have to promise to make me your husband when we grow up."

Anastasia pretended to consider if for a moment before reaching out and linking her pinkie with his own. "Deal!" she said, enjoying the warm flood of happiness she seemed to get when their pinkies touched. She and Dimitri had been friends for as long as she could remember, even if he was two years older than her. Even if it was 'forbidden' as her mama had often liked to remind her; since Dimitri worked in the kitchen and all, Anastasia had made a super special effort to see and play with him as much as possible. She liked Dimitri and he liked her and that was all that matter.

"Anastasia!" a strict, angry voice interrupted their game. "What are you doing? Get away from him at once!" Her nanny grabbed her wrist and Dimitri by the ear, whisking them inside. "How many times must I tell you not to play with each other. If your mother caught you, oh, I don't even know what to think!"

She prodded Dimitri into the kitchen, careful not to harm him. She didn't want to hurt the boy. After all, maybe in another lifetime...

Anastasia waved to Dimitri as he pretended to go back into the kitchen, only to run back outside for more fun in the sun when her nanny wasn't looking.

"Now, Anastasia," her nanny said, "Your grandmama is here to visit you!" She brought her to a large room, where Anastasia was most pleased to see her grandmama sitting on the bed. Excited, Anastasia wrenched herself out of her nanny's grip and ran over to her grandmother.

"Grandmama!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her. "What brings you here! I didn't know you were coming!"

Her grandmother Marie laughed and adjusted herself on the bed. "Well, Anastasia, I brought you something to try on. Something that will one day be yourself."

The something turned out to be a gorgeous gold crown, complete with royal purple velvet and diamonds. Anastasia gazed and it and it's beauty, but something out the window distracted her instead.

Dimitri was outside playing with one of the dogs that belonged to the servants. She smiled and looked back at the crown.

As beautiful as it was, she'd much rather be outside with Dimitri anyday.


	25. Sepia: The Cruelest of Intentions

Alright. So this stemmed from some research I was doing on Anastasia (the real one) and the Romanov family in general to give this fics a more real feel, and also because, damnit, Anya and Dimitri are not speaking to me as well as I'd like them to. I admit, I am experiencing difficulty getting their characters down, but I'm still trying.

Anyway, I found a page that said that Dimitri was indeed a real person who was the Czar's cousin, and engaged to Anastasia's older sister, Olga for some time. That being said, I don't believe that the creator's of Anastasia generally based Dimitri off of him because the comparsions, while there, are still too much of a stretch.

However, that doesn't mean I didn't see the opportunity for a delicious plot line.

That being said, I've taken MAJOR artistic license, so much so that I've skewed the ages and this is basically an AU. :) Have fun.

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #068: Sepia**

--

A royal behaves in certain ways. They stand straighter than most. They're cleaner than others. They're well versed in more than one language and they have impeccable social skills.

A royal marries to carry on the family name, to continue the line. A royal does not marry for love and a royal does marry the mate of their choosing.

And a royal most certainly does not have intimate discretions with her sister's fiancee.

--

She meets him for the first time when she is fifteen and he is introduced as a distant cousin of her father's. He's tall and at least two years older than she, with dark eyes and dark hair. He's handsome in the way that storybooks speak of and she's taken in a way that she had only read about.

His name is Dimitri and she hates him.

He speaks in a haughty, arrogant tone and seems to look down on her. She can't stand him and she dreads the day that he marries her sister, because then he will become family.

--

"What are you doing?" comes a voice, interrupting her work. She looks up from the picture she is dying and sees Dimitri standing there. She rolls her eyes, annoyed, and looks back down.

"I'm dying my photograph," she says, as if it's as plain as the hair on her head. He burrows his brow, confused.

"But why?" he asks.

Anastasia huffs, aggravated. Won't he just go away? But when she looks up and meets his eyes, she sees something different in them. Something past the arrogance and the selfishness and she swallows, taken aback. He seems genuinely interested and she explains how she wants her photographs to have colour. To not be so dark, so drab.

He nods as if he understands (he doesn't) and acts as if he's not interested (he is) and he asks her to show him some of her others.

He doesn't know why, but suddenly he wants to be closer to her.

--

And closer they grow. They sit and talk, they go for walks and she views him in a different light. Suddenly he's not so obnoxious. Suddenly he's articulate and clever and attractive. Suddenly she begins thinking of him differently, suddenly she begins standing a little closer.

Suddenly one afternoon, she kisses him swiftly on the lips. And after the shock has worn away, he kisses her back, harder with more passion that she had expected.

And suddenly Anastasia didn't feel so cut out for the life of a princess.


	26. Garnet: Childhood Dreams

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #034: Garnet**

--

When Dimitri was ten years old, he imagined a simple life with a loving wife and kids and a decent job. It was the norm; simple things that young kids dreamed of. Of course, in his some of his wilder dreams he also saved people from burning buildings and the general public adored him.

So it was a little far-fetched, but he still imagined it.

But by the time he hit eighteen, his 'job' was all con-artistry and pick-pocketing. His biggest dream was all one big hoax; coning an old woman into believing he had found her grand-daughter.

"Mommy," a soft, high voice began, breaking him out of his thoughts. "When will daddy be home?" He watched as his daughter folded the garnet napkins and placed them on the table for dinner.

Anya blew her red bangs out of her hair and picked up their two year old son and placing him in a high-chair. "Hopefully soon, Duscha," she pat her on the head and surveyed the ingredients for dinner placed on the kitchen counter, "He'll pay if I have to prepare dinner myself."

But at twenty-five and watching his family from the kitchen door as he went un-noticed, he couldn't help but smile at how his life had really turned out. With a grin on his face, he walked into the kitchen and announced his arrival, only to be met with a tackling hug from his daughter and a kiss on the cheek from his wife.


	27. Cream: Skinny Dip

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #027: Cream**

--

"Oh, wow!" Anya exclaimed, throwing her arms up in excitement. "Look at the water! It's so clear and perfect here!"

They were docked on a small port in France, still a ways away from Paris, but the weather was unusually stifling and the water did look terribly inviting, but Dimitri would never out right announce it like Anya did.

She looked at Dimitri and there was a sparkle in her eyes. "Let's go for a swim!" she said, playfully, tugging on his hand. "Vlad's asleep and it's boiling! Come on!"

Dimitri shook his head. "Oh, no no no," he pulled out of her grasp, "That's not a good idea. We don't even have swim wear."

Anya groaned and rolled her eyes. "Oh, who cares!" She threw her arms up and began pulling her dress over her head until she was stripped down to nothing but her cream coloured undergarments. Dimitri turned away, his face blazing hot.

Though he did catch a peek.

It was only when he saw her finally emerged in the water that he decided, to hell with it, and joined her. But it was in the water that suddenly everything about her became more prominent. The blue in her eyes, the shock of her hair. The water dripping on her pink mouth and the tawny freckles on her shoulders.

He saw her in a different light for the millionth time that hour and he couldn't stand. But when they leaned in for the inevitable kiss; it was she that turned away this time, and promptly left the water.

He turned around, wading; confused. "Where are you going?"

She grabbed her dress and held her protectively against her form, careful not to reveal anything; suddenly shy. She shrugged.

"I just don't feel like swimming anymore. The water's suddenly too warm."


	28. Purple: Let's Get Some Shoes

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #083: Purple**

--

"Dimitri," Anya cooed, sitting next to him on the sofa. "Look at what I bought on my shopping trip with Sophie."

Dimitri glanced at his wife over the top of his newspaper. Anya was forever shopping with Sophie and she'd come home giddy like a school girl over some mundane purchase. He would have never thought it possible, considering how much of a tomboy she was when he met her; but maybe it was the years of not shopping that caused it.

"I dunno, what is it? You look exactly the same as you left," he said, trying to find a difference.

Anya then scoffed and stuck out her leg. On her foot was a patent, purple pump. She grinned, delighted. He blinked.

"Oh, purple heels," he went back to his newspaper. "That's conventional."

Anya bristled. "What does that mean?" She was on the defense, now.

Dimitri put down his newspaper. "I'm just saying; purple? Probably not the best colour for shoes."

Anya cocked her head to the side and slid closer to him on the couch. "Oh? Is that so? Well," she undid one of the buttons on her blouse, and then another. "Purple isn't only the colour of my shoes, you know."

Three buttons later and one glance at the purple lace and satin covering her chest was all Dimitri needed to abandon his newspaper entirely.

--

I bought purple heels today. They are amazing.


	29. Goldenrod: All That is Holy

--

**Techincolour Eyes**

**Prompt #087: Goldenrod**

--

"Do you believe in God?" Anya asked one day, sitting in the front pew of the empty church they were sleeping in for the night. They still had several days left of their journey to Paris.

Dimitri shrugged and looked up at the goldenrod ceiling. "Not really." Two seats beside him, Vlad rolled over and let out a loud snore.

Anya turned around and looked at him, sitting several rows back. "Why not?"

Dimitri shrugged again and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I suppose I don't think someone who claimed to create and love each and every one of us truly exists. You don't wish some of the stuff that happens to people on someone you love." He glanced up at her through the bangs that had fallen in his eyes. "Do you?"

Anya nodded, slowly. "Of course."

"Why?"

:"Only a higher power would have lead me here to you."

It's hard for him not to look into the millions of meanings behind her words.

--

ETA: I can't believe I forgot an entire line.


	30. Yellow: Ben and Felicity

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #056: Yellow**

--

It's been three days since he last saw her and he's miserable. He wants to curl up into a ball and just die, and quite frankly, if he continues to exist on the cheap porter and rum he's got stashed in the small drawer of the crappy dresser in his crappy apartment in crappy St. Petersburg, he will die.

Twenty minutes later and a knock on his door draws him out of his misery. He drags himself off of the unmade bed and to the door, a disleved mess of a man; ready to bark curses at whoever is at the door.

But it's when he opens it and sees her standing there, in a ratty, expensive yellow dress, wringing her hands nervously. He gapes, unsure of what to do or say.

"So, um," she begins and wrings her hands tighter. "I know we basically ended on terrible terms and I know that I basically implied that I hated you, which was true because at that moment I really, truly, honest to god did. And I know that it's weird because I followed you all these miles away and please don't ask how I even found out that you were here at this location because it's a really long and complicated story and I really, really don't want to get into on how I got here because the only thing that matters is that...I am. That I'm here."

She took a breath then, looking into his eyes, pleadingly. "Please, um, stay something? I know I'm rambling and going on in circles and I um, I just...I want you to know that I really care about you and--"

He swiftly met her mouth with his own, cutting her off. He had heard enough at 'so'.


	31. Scarlet: Damn that Harley

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #079: Scarlet**

--

Sleek, shiny, scarlet red in colour.

"No," she shook her head, hands on her hips. "I'm not doing this."

Powerful, fast, expensive.

"Come on, Anya," Dimitri pleaded. "Just a drive around the block. Nothing more."

It was rather dangerous.

"Dimitri, the kids are inside, asleep," she ran a hand through her hair aggravated. "I can't believe you did this."

Really dangerous when in the wrong hands.

"The kids are upstairs sleeping with both Vlad and Sophie there. Anya, come on," he tugged on her hand and led her to the object in question. "Please."

He bought a motorcycle. Oh for the love of...

"Fine," she said, taking his hand and grabbing the helmet. "You're lucky I'd go anywhere wt


	32. Brown: Your Hand Receives a Kiss!

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #018: Brown**

--

Her hand is throbbing.

While, not throbbing exactly; but she can still feel the place where his lips touched her hand and the tingles that were left behind. She's probably caught some disease, now; some _'I'm-an-arrogant-prick' _disease that will cause her to be unfit for the public.

How wonderful.

And on top of that, how dare he kiss her hand like that? Just because they were going through the steps, going through the motions, prancing around on that stupid brown log, did _not_ mean that he had permission to just out right kiss her hand!

And why had he done it anyway? He hated her just as much as she hated him and ugh! The nerve!

And more importantly, why could she not get the image of him ducking down to kiss her hand out of her head? Why could she not rid herself of the erratic beating of her heart that had swelled since his lips came in contact with her hand? Why was it bothering her so much? Why did she want him to kiss her hand again? To kiss her cheek? Her lips? Oh for the love of...

God, this just made her hate Dimitri even more.

Right?


	33. Orange: Tropical Fruit

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #004: Orange**

Anastasia was bored.

This party, in general, was boring, but so was the last party, and the one before that. And if she was being perfectly honest (which she was) the one after this would probably be boring, too.

Simply because, well, what is an eight year old to do at such an event anyways? Dancing never entertained her for too long, nor did the small talk she'd make upon relatives and guests. Quite frankly, she'd prefer to be off doing something (anything) else.

But she wasn't. She was stuck here; bored, watching as her elder sisters danced and flirted, and as her younger brother ran underneath skirts and in between people's legs.

It was all very drawl.

That was, until, something brightly coloured caught her eye. She looked closer and saw an oranges and bananas, a rare, tropical treat, sitting bunched in a bowl. Standing before the bowl, was a boy; about her age, looking at them longingly.

She smiled, picking up an orange. The boy obviously worked in the palace; his clothes and scruffy hair told her as much. Tossing the orange to him, she was worried she might have shocked him, and the fruit would be dropped and bruised; but to her surprise, he caught it.

She grinned when he stuck his hand out to return it to her. "No, silly; it's for you!"

Maybe if he was around at these things, it would be so boring, she thought as she walked toward him, ready to embrace an awkward friendship.

--

**This is based on the original script for the movie. Thank god they didn't use it.**


	34. Green: Through Sickness and Health

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #006: Green**

--

"Hot water and lemon again?" Dimitri asked, watching his sick wife wrap a blanket around herself before taking a seat next to him on the couch. She nestled the hot mug closer to her before taking a sip.

"It's all I can keep down," she said, her voice scratchy. She gave a sniff and rubbed her sore nose. "God, I hate being sick!" she pouted and drew the green mug even closer to her. She leaned her head on Dimitri's shoulder.

"Make it go away," she pouted.

Dimitri glanced down at her and patted her head before smirking.

"If you get me sick; I'll divorce you."

--

**And let this be known as the fic that almost wasn't.**

**I'm so exhausted and just worked a hellish six hour shift at work. I also have to work six hour shifts for the next three days, though I am working for the next four days. This is hell. Retail sucks. I don't know when I'm expected to do homework.**

**A couple of you inquired about the original Anastasia script. It can be found by going to go old Google and searching 'Anastasia script'. The first link for a site called 'script-o-rama' is the correct one. I'm not a fan of the original script; there's a reason they never used it, after all.**


	35. Violet: Dress to Impress

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #005: Violet**

--

They were travelling through Italy, working odd jobs when Anya saw it. The gorgeous, perfectly cut violet dress hanging the window of a well known Italian designer. It was a breath taking piece, made of taffeta and silk and lace. She pressed her fingers against the class and stared, in awe.

"I love it," she whispered to Dimitri. He looked at the dress confused. It was just a dress.

"Why don't you just buy it?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It's far too much money. Besides, I don't have anywhere to wear it."

Dimitri stared at her in confusion. "You're a princess, Anya. You could wear it anywhere and people wouldn't care."

"I don't want to. I'm just Anya, remember?" she smiled happily and took his hand. "Let's get going!"

The next morning, however, she awoke to a large box wrapped in blue paper lying on the bed next to her. Tearing the wrapping off, she found the dress she was admiring the day prior, along with a note that read:

"To me; you'll always be my princess."


	36. Lime: Like Father Like Son

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #004: Lime**

--

One afternoon, Anya was at the market, inspecting an oddly shaped lime, when she noticed that her seven year old son, Luka, was no longer by her side. Panicked, she ran throughout the market, searching for him.

Ten minutes later, she found him, sitting on the street corner; his cheeks smudged with dirt. He was speaking to an old couple, a sad look on his face.

When she got closer, she heard some of the dialogue they were exchanging.

"And your mother just left you here?" asked the elderly woman, appalled.

Luka nodded. "After my papa got shot down by the Russian police, she couldn't find it in herself to go on. So she left me here for the cats to eat me."

"My word!" exclaimed the old man.

'Oh dear god,' Anya thought, and promptly swooped in, apologizing to the older couple. Much explaining later; she and Luka were on their way.

Later that night, Anya and Luka found themselves in the kitchen, waiting for Dimitri to return home.

"Just wait until your father hears about this!" Anya said, chopping carrots. "You're going to be in big trouble! Where did you get such nonsense anyway?

Luka looked up at her and said, "But mama, when I grow up I wanna be a con-man! Just like daddy!"

Anya swung around from her position at the kitchen counter and glared. "Never say that again, Luka!" she snapped, concerned and angry; sure to nib this in the bud. "And your father is not a con-man! He is a businessman!"

Luka shook his head. "Nu-uh, mama! Daddy told me all about his adventures as a con-man when he was young!"

Anya continued to glare. "Did he now?" she asked, her voice like acid; which went un-noticed by her son who continued to twirl about the kitchen excitedly.

"Yep! And he said if it wasn't for you, he would still be one!"

Dimitri's timing couldn't have been worse, because he chose that moment to return home; only to be met with his wife's wrath.

--

Sorry this is so late. Work cornered me, beat me up and stole my lunch money today.


	37. Pewter: To Have and To Hold

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #047: Pewter**

--

On their first anniversary, he gave her a necklace. A simple heart charm made out of pewter, dangling on a matching string.

He had kissed her lips and apologized that it wasn't much; but to hold it and remember how much he loved her every time he wasn't there. Whether he was at work or at the store or travelling, or when she was at some royal event that he just couldn't attend.

And so she did so.

But at that moment, nearly sixty years later, as she sat by his bedside in the hospital room, staring at his comatose form, she clutched and and remembered, knowing there was a chance that soon; this was all she was going to be able to hold on to.

--

Let this be known as the fic that almost wasn't number two. One more grueling shift at work and then I'm off for two days and on at least one of them, I intend to write a stack of drabbles so I no longer have to write them fifteen minutes before midnight.


	38. Peach: Maps

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #017: Peach**

--

"Dimitri, we're lost!" Anya shouted, folding her arms and stomping her foot. "Let me see the map!"

Vlad sighed, knowing what was next and took a seat on the ground, Pooka in his lap. It was probably best to sit this one out.

"Your highness," Dimitri replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "We are not lost. We simply do not know where we are."

Anya let out a squeal of frustration. "Which means we're lost, you idiot!" she screamed. "You can't even read the map right!" She thrust her finger out and pointed to the peach coloured object in his hand. "Let me see it!" she snapped.

Dimitri rolled his eyes and hid the map behind his back. "No."

Anya stepped close. "Let me see it."

Dimitri held it above his head. "No!"

Anya pounced, knocking Dimtri over and tumbling on top of him. She pinned his wrists to the ground, straddling his hips. She glared down at him, only to flush a moment later when she noticed their compromising situation and the fact that his face was about four inches away from her's.

She grabbed the map from his hand and looked at it, before rolling it up and hitting him in the head with it.

"Dimitri, you idiot! You've been reading it upside down!"

--

**This is for my best friend, Jacqui. I asked her during history today for a story idea, because I've been having a lack of inspiration for them lately. She asked what prompt I was using and I said peaches. She then said that I had to use the next thing she thought of and make it work.**

**Well, what she thought of was that Dimitri was showing Anya the servents exit in the palace and they're walking and they step on peaches and are like, what, why are there peaches here?**

**I told her to shut up and think of something else. So she looked around and stopped a map.**

**Thanks best friend. **


	39. Sky: Nevermore

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #030: Sky**

--

Anya bailed Dimitri out of jail today,

For the third time that year.

Once at home, she glared and said,

"Get your stuff, I want you out of here."

And despite the way he begged and pleaded,

Anya wouldn't budge.

Instead she found a suitcase,

And pushed it towards him with a nudge.

"I just can't do this anymore,"

She said with tears in her eyes.

"I can stand the deception and betrayal,

Can't stand your cheating and your lies."

"It was honestly different this time,"

Dimitri so solemnly swears.

"Anya, I can't do this without you!

We're supposed to be a pair!"

"Like that means anything to you!"

She snapped and cried.

"Your words, they don't mean anything!

They're just a tool for you to use to hide!"

He asked her one more time if she loved him,

And to that, Anya did not reply.

And with that, he packed his bags and left,

With nothing to do but look to the sky.

For he knew this time he had screwed up,

His mistakes could not be fixed,

And his life with her was nothing but a memory,

Something he would always treasure and miss.

--

**We're doing a poetry unit in Writer's Craft. I hate poetry, and I wrote a poem about how I hate poetry, and then I wrote this one so I can submit it to class and kill two birds with one stone. :)**


	40. Mint: This Ain't 1926, Babe

I'm skewing history again. This takes place in the present day, modern times with the idea that they're still searching for the missing Romanovs. Since this is fiction, let's pretend the whole Romanov murder occurred like, ten years ago, and Anya and Dimitri are their respective fictional ages (18 and 20). Basically, this is Dimitri trying to rope Anya into his manipulative con in modern day at a club, set to music from Britney Spears.

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #089: Mint**

--

He spotted her from across the club. Her wild red hair hanging in loose waves with her eyes outlined in thick black eyeliner. The short, tight black dress accentuated her curves and the yellow high heels she paired with them made her legs look long and lean.

Dimitri leaned against the bar stool, downing his drink before approaching her. He made his way over to her, looping his hand around her waist and swaying with her to the beat of the music.

_"superstar, where you from, how's it doing?_

_I know you, got a clue,_

_whatcha doing?"_

She turned around to face him and he found that she was even more beautiful, even more perfect than he had imagined. He lowered his hands on her hips and she moved into him, her arms above her head. He leaned close and whispered in her ear.

"I'm Dimitri," he said, and she leaned in a moment later, whispering in his own ear; her breath hot against his neck.

"Anya," she said, pulling back and grinning at him. He grinned back and leaned forward again.

"Buy you a drink?" When he saw her grin grow wider he grabbed her hand and led her to the bar.

His plan was in action.

_"Got all the puppets with their strings up,_

_Faking like a good one, but I call 'em like I see 'em._

_I know what you are, I know what you are, baby."_

He ordered her drink and she took several sips. They conversed for a few minutes. She spoke of growing up in foster homes and the like, not knowing her real family. He instantly knew she was feisty, and lonely. Two things that he certainly hadn't expected.

Moving in front of her, he placed his hands on her hips again and looked her square in the face. She placed her drink down on the bar and placed her arms around his neck, leaning into him.

"Anya?" he began, slowly, his voice thick and his mind dizzy from the alcohol and her presence.

"Yes, Dimitri?" she drawled.

He pressed his body flush against hers, noticing how perfectly they fit together. The music continued to play, the bass continued to pump. It was now or never.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look suddenly like the Crown Duchess of Russia, Anastasia?"

_"Boy, don't try to front,_

_I know just what you are."_

Anya glared fiercely. Removing her hands from his neck and in one shift motion, retrieving her drink and thrusting it in his face. The taste of mint shappnes dripped down his face.

"Who the hell do you think I am?" she spat, "Anna Anderson?"

_"Maybe if we both lived in a different world,_

_It would be good, and I could be your girl._

_But I can't 'cause we don't."_

--

The lyrics from Britney's new single go along with the story, progressing as the story does. The last lyrics are basically that Anya would have gone along with it, had she lived in a different world, which she did do in a 'different world'. Get what I'm saying? Haha.

I also apologize for not posting these past couple of days. I've been so sick, it's awful. I've feeling better, though, and hope to post enough drabbles tonight to catch up. :D


	41. Golden: The Swan and the Oprhan Part One

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #020: Golden**

--

Anya met the young woman in a market in New Zea land. She had long, fluffy locks of golden hair and deep blue eyes. Her figure was slim and her face breath-taking.

The way they met was not by any circumstances normal. They collided in the street, the woman's arms full of packages and Anya's little boy was tugging incenstantly at her hand. One thing led to another and their collision was painful.

"Oh my god," Anya exclaimed, looking at the woman. "I am so sorry! He's just been restless all afternoon and I just can't control him and I swear he just takes after his father!" She glared at her son, who found the whole situation positively hilarious.

The woman stood up and brushed herself off. "Oh, it's no problem." She smiled brightly and Anya felt very calm all of a sudden. "My name's Odette," she out-stretched her hand in greeting and to help Anya to her feet.

Anya smiled brightly. "My name's Anya," a long, gold chain around Odette's neck caught her eye. Hanging from the chain was a heart shaped pendant. "That's a beautiful necklace you've got on."

Odette smiled. "Thank you. Someone very special gave it to me."

Anya gave her own necklace a squeeze. She and Odette seemed to have a lot in common.

"Perhaps, you'd like to go for tea?" Odette asked, the smile never leaving her face.

Anya grinned. "I'd love to."

--

:D I love The Swan Princess. Am totally making this into a three parter.


	42. Forest: The Swan and the Orphan Part Two

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #041: Forest**

--

"Anya, why didn't you even consider asking me about this before you invited them for dinner?" Dimitri wailed from his place at the kitchen table.

Anya shrugged and continued chopping onions. "I didn't think you'd mind."

Dimitri rubbed his temples. His wife was crazy. "Anya, you invited a king and queen to dinner tonight. Of course I mind!"

Placing her hands on her hips, Anya turned around and stared at him. "Uh, hello? Princess standing before you?"

"Yeah, but these two are obviously still very...royal. I mean, they live in a castle! They hold onto their titles! What did you say their names were again?"

Anya rolled her eyes. God, she married an over-dramatic fool. "Odette and Derek. And this is a very informal meeting. I met Odette in the market this afternoon."

Dimtri groaned. He stared at his son. "What do you think, Luka?" Much to his dismay, Luka just shrugged and asked when dinner was going to be ready.

When six o'clock rolled around, the doorbell rang and standing at their doorstep were two very royal looking figures indeed. The tall blonde woman named Odette, who already began chatting with Anya like they were old friends, a small blonde daughter who became an instant playmate for Luka and a large, brunette man.

He and Dimitri were left in the forest green hallway alone. Dimitri instantly hated him.

"My name's Derek," the man said, extending his hand. "I know this is awkward, but when my wife gets an idea in her head..."

Dimitri nodded. "I know what you mean." He looked at Derek and then gestured to the sitting area. "Want to listen to the game on the radio?"

Derek broke out into a grin. "Now you're talking."

Dimitri hated him a little less.


	43. Maroon: The Swan and the Orphan Finale

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #061: Maroon**

--

The dinner party was a surprising success. Derek was hardly the stuck up royal Dimitri had thought him to be, and the four of them talked into the night, downing several bottles of wine.

Luka and Odette and Derek's daughter, Leighton, were currently passed out on the couch, cuddled up against one another. Odette and Anya cooed at the sight.

"Who knows," Anya began softly, draping a maroon blanket over them, "Maybe they'll marry someday."

Derek laughed. "Odette and I had an arranged marriage, you know." He took his wife's hand and smiled. "I hated her guts when I was young."

Dimitri cocked an eyebrow. "I hated Anya when I first met her, too."

Anya stuck out her tongue. "Right back at you."

"Seems like we all met under odd circumstances," Odette smiled.

Anya lifted her glass of wine and nodded. "At least your husband didn't try and use you to make a ton of money."

"Anya!" Dimitri hissed. He laughed nervously, seeing Odette and Derek's confused faces.

Odette patted Anya's hand. "I understand. At least your husband didn't imply that all you had to offer was beauty."

"Odette!"

"Derek," Dimitri began, his tone biting, "At least your wife didn't have a walking corpse trying to kill her."

There was silence after that. Anya waved off the matter. "It's a long story."

Derek leaned back in his chair. "Yeah, well, at least your wife didn't turn into a swan."

Anya and Dimitri blinked. "Long story?" Anya asked.

"You have no idea."


	44. Khaki: Bringing Sexy Back

--

**Technicolour Eyes**

**Prompt #040: Khaki**

--

"You have some really ugly clothes," Anya proclaimed over dinner one evening.

Dimitri twirled around, his brow furrowed. "Excuse me?" he asked, blinking.

"Your clothes," she waved a hand non-chantantly and surveyed his khaki pants and green vest. "They're really ugly."

He scoffed in disbelief, before sitting back down and shaking his head. "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"I'm serious, though," Anya said, not relenting. "I mean, I'm an orphan. I have no choice. But you, you're a con-man. Think you could maybe con yourself into some decent clothes."

Dimitri snarled. She was getting on his nerves. "I like my clothes."

"Of course you would," Anya said, rolling her eyes. "You obviously have zero fashion sense. You're so lucky I've come along."

"And why would that be? Because I get to have wonderful conversations such as this day in and day out?" He snapped.

"No. I'm just bringing the pretty back into this group."

--

AND I AM OFFICIALLY CAUGHT UP! WHOO! It's now Sunday morning and I am up to date. :)


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